While not a genuine professional, I do have some related work experience, and time to kill while musing.
The best thing I can conjure up, at least without sitting with a pipe over it for a good long while, is that pipes and tobaccos work themselves into so many facets of our lives.
Social interactions, or quiet introverted solitude. Taste, touch, scent (the strongest trigger of memory), visual aesthetics. The stories of the people that make pipes and tobaccos.
The near legendary people in the industries that you occasionally may be blessed to interact with. Sharing a joke with Brian Levine over Cuban Coffee at the Chicago Show, Marty Pulvers explaining in various ways how his thumb may or may not fit into a pipe's bowl and to which knuckle's depth, that time JT Cooke nearly spat in your eye when all you wanted was to attempt a comission, or most recently for me when Facebooking with the Honorable Mr. Greg Pease and suggested that he should name his next band "Latakaster" - a combo of latakia + telecaster, which somebody suggested would be Greg's final words upon parting the Earth one day.
You can smoke stuff that will instantly sprout brand new chest hair, or if it's a Gawith rope, maybe brand new head hair even. You can smoke stuff that will make ladies recall their grandfather. You can buy a pipe big enough to potentially bludgeon someone with, or a lean-and-mean pipe, from pretty much anywhere in the world thanks to the internet. I've thrown my cob in the water after a big fish that got away at the last second and felt thoroughly satisfied in my retribution.
It's affordable in any price range, and you can't do it wrong.
It connects a lot of the facets of what makes a human being a human being.
Collecting pipes and tobaccos... it's kind of like collecting the essences of the spectrums of humanity. Who wouldn't want to collect that?